


Toast

by Dryad



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: But nothing a "normal" family of the time would consider unusual, Family, Gen, Implied Child Abuse, pg13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 01:50:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3363299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dryad/pseuds/Dryad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But I don't half like toast</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toast

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Inspector Lewis Fanworks Challenge Roulette!](http://lewis-challenge.livejournal.com/)
> 
> I am not from 'The North', nor have I ever visited there. My attempt at getting the rhythm of speech down will therefore be minimal, for which you should all be grateful. (I know I am)

Robbie grabbed the last piece of toast before Davey could get his filthy hand on it.

"Mam!" screamed Davey, as if Robbie had stabbed him with his fork, even though Robbie was younger than Davey by two years. "He touched my toast!"

At the kitchen sink, their mother sighed heavily and paused washing Nan's tray. Over her shoulder, she said, "Give it a rest, Davey, I'll make you another."

Robbie spread strawberry jam on his toast and when Mam had turned back to the sink, stuck his tongue out at Davey. 

_I hate you!_ Davey silently mouthed back, making the chair squeak as he sat back hard, folding his arms and sulking. 

Served him right, Robbie thought to himself. After all, hadn't it been Davey who'd stolen half Robbie's potato at dinner only last night? Yes, yes it had, so's it was only fair that Robbie got to eat extra toast before school. "Mam," he said, looking thoughtfully at his thick slice of bread. "Who makes bread?"

"Oh for God's sake," said Uncle Harry, snapping his newspaper closed. He sat on the stool in the corner, the king overseeing his subjects.

"Just askin'," muttered Robbie under his breath, worrying at the bright jam with one finger. From the corner of his eye he saw Uncle Harry slide off the stool, so he hunched down even more. It was no use, Uncle Harry slapped the back of Robbie's head anyway, and not with the paper, on his way out of the kitchen. 

"Harry!" 

Robbie dared a glance to the left; yes, Mam was glaring at Uncle Harry in exasperation. Too bad she wouldn't just kick him out, like Auntie Viv had done with Billy Sutherland. Something hit his foot - Davey, who was also shooting him a look across the table. Because of course, he was halfway through the slice of toast Robbie had dropped in order to rub the back of his head. Uncle Harry always made it seem like he was playing around, but the truth was that he liked to hit hard, and often.

"What do you want me to do, Margaret? They can't be allowed to treat you like a skivvie."

"It's just toast, Harry," explained Mam, leaning against the edge of the sink and staring into the basin.

" _'It's just toast, Harry'_ ," he mimicked, tossing the newspaper onto the table. "Aye, and someday it'll be bus fare or a meal for the weans, because God knows Davey's already laughing with that Jenkins girl."

Mam whipped around at that, pointing at Uncle Harry with emphasis. "You just shut it, Harry Tompkins! My boys are good boys and there won't be any bairns in this house before their time! Now get out, all of you, _get out!"_

Uncle Harry scowled and headed out of the room, Davey hot on his heels. Robbie followed, turning back at the door to make sure Mam was going to be okay. She was looking out the window behind the sink, yet Robbie had the feeling she wasn't looking at the lines of laundry drying in sunlight. 

"Go outside and play, Robbie."

"But Mam - "

She looked at him, then, smiling a little sadly. "It's fine. Go play."

He hesitated, because she was definitely not all right. Then again, she always looked like that after a row with Uncle Harry. For a moment he considered staying inside, he could linger and play toy soldiers, make a redoubt on the stairs, but that would just get him into even more trouble. Decision made, he scarpered for the front door. It was open, and could hear Jimmy Cooper yelling at Ian about his goalkeeping. A game of footie, then, played in the street would be just the ticket.

He jumped over the steps leading to the landing, felt the brush of air against the top of his head and ran for it. When he thought he was safe, he looked back and yes, Uncle Harry was lurking on the kerb, smoking a fag and killing Robbie with his eyes. Robbie flipped him the bird before moving out of the way of the game in progress.

One day, he vowed. One day Harry would be gone and then Robbie would take care of Mam, he would be the man of the house, as Davey was before Harry turned up, smarming his way in Mam's life. 

One day.


End file.
